


New York

by SophieD



Series: Leverage  Date Nights [2]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Date Night, Elphaba - Freeform, F/F, Glinda - Freeform, Musical, New York, Theater - Freeform, Wicked - Freeform, Witch - Freeform, Wizard of Oz, con artist, grifter - Freeform, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 01:22:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2210379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophieD/pseuds/SophieD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sophie takes Tara to the theater but Tara can't figure out what Sophie really wants</p>
            </blockquote>





	New York

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Date Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/928279) by [A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/pseuds/A%20Magiluna%20Stormwriter). 



> This is the second story I wrote, still following the date night idea that was proposed by A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess). I wrote the story around one of my other obsessions, Wicked the Musical. I've seen shows on the first and second national tours but have never seen it in New York. If you really like this story, consider thanking me by taking me there.

The card arrives in my hotel room late in the afternoon. I've just returned from a long swim in the hotel pool, a wonderfully tiring workout and a bit of a thrill for the tired businessmen in the lobby and the harried mothers watching their kids in the water. I take a long hot shower and examine the card again. Two words and a number.  
Gershwin Theatre 7:30.  
It's from Sophie. It has to be from Sophie. No one else would invite me to the theatre but Sophie. What does she call herself? A theatre rat? I smile. I dare anyone to call Sophie Devereaux a rat of any kind. 

A glance at the clock and I realize that I am going to be late. I quickly scan my store of dresses. I have the royal blue one that she loves and the green one I wore last time we went out. I finally decide on blue but not the blue Sophie would pick. This one is a lighter shade, I like to think it matches my eyes. And it's short. Maybe too short. I did work out today though and I like the way I look in a short dress. I like the reaction that I get from men and women alike. I want that reaction from Sophie. And besides, I want lots of flesh exposed. If I am going to have to spend the evening in a dark theatre, I want lots of exposed skin for finger tips to wander. Just the thought of her hands on my body makes me shiver. 

What is she doing in New York? Last I heard she was still hanging in Oregon. I prefer New York's frantic lifestyle to the funky party that is Portland. We are so different in this way. How the hell did she know I was here? No one knows I am here. I shrug. How does Sophie know anything? 

A splash of make-up and I pile my hair high on my head. I prefer it down but Sophie likes it up. She says it's more sophisticated this way. Whatever she wants is what I will do. I will do anything for you Ms. Sophie. Anything for you. Another tic toc on the clock and I dash out the door. 

As predicted, I am a few minutes late and the crowd in front of the theatre is slowly moving toward the door. And there is Sophie. She's bobbing her head impatiently as she watches the arriving cabs. "Trust me Sophie" I think to myself. "I will always be there for you"

She looks amazing. As predicted her hair is pinned elegantly on top of her head. Her dress is shorter than mine and it looks magnificent on her. Fingertips I think and I shiver again. The fabric is blood red, a perfect contrast to her black hair and her dark dark eyes. The low cut of the bodice is decorated with a blinding array of diamonds. Sophie Devereaux can be anyone she wants to be at the drop of a hat. Tonight she is the Duchess and she's not looking to take any prisoners. 

Finally our eyes lock and I can tell she likes what she sees. Then suddenly her eyes flash black and I hurry to her side. She greets me with a light kiss, a friendly kiss but it is too short and not at all satisfying. "What the hell" I think. I worked too hard on this look for a friendly peck on the lips. I want more. So much more. And I don't want to wait. She presses a ticket into my hand and leads me to the door. I glance at the ticket. Wicked. Front row center. I would expect nothing less from the great Sophie Devereaux than the best seats in the house. 

Sophie has seen this play before and I wonder why she brought me tonight. She knows I hate the theatre. Sitting still in the dark is not what I like. I like to move. And to be seen. I like to be seen with Sophie. 

We find our seats and before we can talk, the building starts to hum and the curtain draws back. Sophie leans forward in her seat, her eyes shining. She really does love this. I wonder again why she's chosen this for our date night instead of taking one of her teammates or Nate. She's always whining that she would rather stay home and have a quiet evening. Yet here we are in a room full of a thousand people, their energy buzzing all around us. 

The sets are awe inspiring and the actors are amazing and I try to get into the story as it unfolds before me. Every now and then, Sophie leans into to me and whispers a bit of trivia into my ear. I can't quite make out what she's saying but I enjoy the wisps of hot breath in my ear. 

The blonde actress takes the stage. I recognize immediately that she is a grifter. Everyone does for her everything that she wants. Is this what she wants me to see? Is this supposed to be me? If that's me, then who is Sophie in this play? Not the witch. She has no power, at least none that she can control. No Sophie is definitely not the witch. Sophie knows exactly what her power is and how to use it against her marks. And me. 

The show is entertaining and I find myself caught up in the story of the blonde and the witch as they form an unlikely friendship and make plans to conquer the world. Sophie looks toward me every once in a while to see if I am still there. Her eyes are moist and her irises are non-existent making her already dark eyes black as night. She winks at me. She knew I would enjoy it. Anything for you Ms. Sophie. Anything for you. The story comes to a climax and I rise and cheer with the rest of the audience as the witch sings her anthem and rises high into the rafters. Suddenly it is dark and I feel stunned and out if breath along with the rest of the crowd. 

As the house lights come on, Sophie snatches my hand and leads me to the lobby. She disappears into the crowd then suddenly appears next to me with two glasses of champagne. We stand close together in the back of the room. We sip our drinks and make small talk. "What are you doing here in New York?" "How long are you staying?" God how I hate small talk. I long to take her hand and run full tilt out into the night. To take her in my arms and kiss her until she begs for mercy. But this is Sophie's night and she's making it clear that she's not ceding her power to me tonight. I sigh and dutifully hand over my wine glass. I watch as she presses herself back into the crowd only to re-emerge at the front of the drink line. Yes Sophie definitely knows her powers. It's something that I've always admired about her, her ability to control a room merely with her presence while she subtly works her magic on the mark. It's no wonder that she's a magnificent grifter. People will give her whatever she wants. In this case it's another two glasses of champagne, paid for by who? Certainly not by Sophie. I don't think Sophie has ever paid for her own drink in her life. 

I ponder that for a minute while I watch her glide back toward me. Who is she really? I know her name is not Sophie. It wasn't when I met her though I can't quite remember what it was. She likes me to call her Sophie and so I do. It suits this persona she is wearing tonight. It feels good in my mouth. "Sophie" I say as she returns to my side. Her eyes flash at me again and I swallow my thought. She leans into me with a light kiss. A brush on the lips. I am still not satisfied. The bells ring as we finish our wine and return to our seats. 

The second act starts out faster and more intense than the first. The blonde perfects her grift while lamenting her choices. The witch reappears, now fully aware of her magic. She is stunning with her long black hair and exquisite dress. I can see Sophie on the stage now, weaving her dark magic while her passion bubbles just below her soft green skin. Wait. I glance at Sophie. Not green. Good. 

Suddenly the man appears. The witch and the blonde fight. Their years of friendship torn apart by the man. My mouth goes dry and I stiffen in my seat. Is this it? Is this what she's trying to tell me? Has Sophie made her choice? The witch chose the man. Is Sophie choosing her man? The scene is beautiful and the audience weeps for the players but I can only weep for myself. 

I sit stunned, barely able to follow the plot of the love story and then the anger and then the tragedy played out in front of me. I need Sophie. I know I don't always play fair. I like to be in control. To play with her. I like to make her crazy before I finally give in to her and give her what she wants. 

I need her to tell me this is not what she wants. 

The blonde and the witch return to sing their last song together before they leave forever. Sophie takes my hand again and squeezes it hard. I try to pay attention to the lyrics. This is what she wants me to see.  
This why I am here. I choke back my sorrow and try to listen. 

The blonde sings of their lost friendship and a handprint on her heart. The witch asks for forgiveness and tells how her story could not have been written without the blonde. That she is a better person for having been friends. 'And none of it seems to matter anymore'. They embrace one last time before they walk out of each other's lives. 

I look at Sophie and she is crying and now I am crying. She is squeezing my hand hard enough to hurt but I don't care. I am so confused now. Please Sophie! Please tell me what you want me to know. What am I supposed to learn?

We stagger out of the theatre into the warm night, still holding hands. The crowd around us seems as stunned as I feel and we wander in whatever direction they take us. There is no where I want to go. Nowhere else I want to be. Not without Sophie. I try to form words but no sound emerges. 

We finally separate from the thick of the crowd and I try again. "Soph. What. Why." I attempt to gather my thoughts and try again. "Soph. Please. I. Need. I..." Sophie stops and turns toward me so abruptly that I run straight into her. She does not step back and I find myself chest to chest, nose to nose with her. Her eyes flash black at me again and I try to back away. 

"Bloody hell Tara", she growls as she holds me in my place. "Bloody hell will you please just shut up!' Then she kisses me. This is not the kiss you give when greeting a friend or showing affection for a companion. This is the kiss of a lover. It reaches deep inside of me. It squeezes my soul. It puts another hand print on my heart. And I understand.

**Author's Note:**

> I love comments and positive feedback. Helpful criticism also is welcome


End file.
